Fast and Loose (14 page)

“I can't tell you that, Mary Alice. I would if I could, because I respect you and your talent. I like to think you and me and the others are smart enough to know how far to go, how to cover our tracks and not cross that invisible line. That's how we've all survived so far. RC crossed it because he thought he was infallible. Personally speaking, I think he knows we're onto him. Either he's on the run, or he's getting ready to wipe out our entire bloodlines. Right this moment, I think it's the latter. These people I'm with . . . They're the best of the best. Believe me when I tell you that. For now, you're safe. Accept it, and you will have a life to go back to.”

Mary Alice Farmer broke into tears as she tried to figure out where all this was going. Abner felt his own eyes beginning to burn and sting as he envisioned losing his opportunity to hack and having to live a life of leisure on the millions he had accumulated over the years. The vision was so depressing, he feared that he'd shoot himself in a week.

In his and Mary Alice's world, failure was never an option.

* * *

Upstairs in the penthouse, Philonias paced as he socked one big fist against the other. He muttered and mumbled as his pace picked up. He stopped in the middle of the dining room and looked around. He'd always thought of this space as his personal nest, which no one could invade. A fortress of sorts. He was comfortable and safe here.
Safe
being the operative word. He'd never felt anything his entire life other than safe and happy. Even as a child, he'd always felt safe. Perhaps his size had something to do with the feeling. He could understand, almost, how the kids, then the teenagers, and finally his college mates could be intimidated by his sheer size, and yet he'd never presented—at least he didn't think so—a threatening attitude to anyone.

He realized that he no longer felt safe. At least that was what he thought he was feeling. He was unsure, since he'd never felt emotions like what he was now experiencing.

Philonias started to pace again. So maybe they were onto him. So what? They couldn't prove a thing. Computer-wise, he was safe. There was no person walking the face of the earth who could pin anything on him. They
could
try. They
would
try. And while they were doing that, what would he be doing? Probably sitting in a cell that he could barely turn around in. Should he alert his lawyers? And tell them what? His worries, his suspicions? If he did that, it would make them, the attorneys, look at him with suspicion. Better to wait until they arrested him, if it came to that. But first they had to find him before they could arrest him, and that was not going to happen.

Philonias stopped pacing again. He was in his sunroom, which had wraparound windows that offered him a view of the town he loved. At night, with the lights on and the stars shining, it was like his own magic wonderland. If he had to leave here, he would wither away and die. He was too young to die. Way too young.

Maybe he was looking at this all wrong. Instead of hiding, instead of being such a recluse, maybe he needed to put himself out there more, actually become visible. But if he did that, wouldn't people start to wonder why, since that was not his MO?

Talk about being between a rock and a hard place.

Philonias found himself standing in the doorway to the state-of-the-art kitchen he'd designed himself. He loved all the push buttons. Not that he was too lazy to do certain things. More like he enjoyed simply pushing a button and watching things unfold.

Coffee sounded good, the flavored kind that he liked so much. Maybe the caffeine would create some kind of clarity and would help him decide what to do.

He started the coffeemaker and sat down on an oversize bar stool, mesmerized as the water dripped ever so slowly into the pot. One plop at a time. Like his life to a certain extent. He needed to form a plan, a course of action. He needed to think outside the box and stop doing things the way he'd always done them.

He thought about TRIPLEM and PIP. He knew deep in his gut that they could both give an accurate description of what RCHood looked like. What one missed in a detail, the other would pick up on until they had a clear picture of what he looked like. Then they would go the facial recognition route. There was no doubt in his mind that PIP, who was actually Mary Alice Farmer, was already in their clutches. Not one iota of doubt. TRIPLEM, Abner Tookus, was already here in Vegas, at Babylon. If whoever was after him, meaning Navarro and his people caught up with TRIPLEM, the first thing they'd do if they had any brains was have a sketch artist do a rendering of him from the details the two hackers offered up. From there, they'd run it through facial recognition, and
bam
! But they hadn't done that. Yet. He knew because he'd hacked the program. But they had run PIP's picture and come up with her identity. Not so Abner Tookus. Of course not. He was right here, front and center and part of whatever was happening. Why hadn't they run his sketch? Sloppy work on their part. Or was it something else? If it was, he couldn't figure it out.

Philonias stared at the coffeepot.
Funny
, he thought,
how the last plop always sounds different, the alert that the coffee is ready to pour.
Man, he needed to get with the program here and stop thinking about plopping drops of water in a coffeepot.

He carried his coffee cup, which was as big as a quart pot, back to his computer room. This time he set it down carefully and waited for the coffee to cool. He looked at the computers that graced every wall in the room. He knew that if every computer expert in the entire world walked into this room and sat down at any one of the computers, they wouldn't be able to open a thing. An army of experts could disassemble each and every computer with the same results. He, of course, would be leaning up against the wall, laughing silently at what they were doing, knowing exactly what the outcome would be. Of course, the computers would all be ruined. Little did they know, and he certainly wasn't going to tell them, that he'd worked diligently for over six months to set up this exact room in one of his many rental properties.

Years ago, he'd bought a block of condos that were under construction. There were twelve in all. No one lived in any of them, because he didn't want anyone seeing him coming and going. He paid the taxes and utilities on time. Each unit had a name attached to the title. Mail, mostly junk, was put through a slot on the main doors. He even went so far as to park cars in the designated parking spots, and he moved them every so often. And the condos were far enough out in the desert so that he didn't have to worry about having neighbors wonder what was going on. He thought of it as a retreat of sorts.

If nothing else, Philonias Needlemeyer was a thorough, dedicated man, true to his profession and to his creed of never being caught doing what he did. “Always have a backup plan” was his mantra. Until this moment in time, he thought of the condo complex as a safe harbor, never believing for a minute that he would need to avail himself of its safety. “Which just goes to prove that nothing lasts forever,” he muttered to himself.

Philonias stared at his computer as he waited for it to boot up. He had one thing to do, and now was as good a time as any. With a few quick taps to the keys, he brought up TRIPLEM's e-mail address. He started to type, his fingers as fast as his thoughts. Then he sent a duplicate text to Abner's phone.

Philonias sipped at his coffee, which was now almost cold. His eyes felt suspiciously moist, meaning tears were about to sting his eyes. His mother's childhood words rang in his ears.
Do not be a crybaby, Philonias. You are too big to cry, and it is not manly.
How could he have been manly at the age of six? He'd read somewhere that crying was cathartic. Since he couldn't remember ever crying, he didn't know if it was true or false.

Philonias straightened his shoulders and got up to carry his coffee cup to the sink, where he washed and dried it before replacing it in the cabinet over the stove. He cleaned the coffeepot and checked that everything was neat and tidy in the kitchen before he made his rounds of the penthouse. If and when anyone entered the apartment, it would look like he had gone for a walk and was planning on returning.

All he had to do now was walk out the door, go to the sixth floor, and drive his custom-built Bentley out to the desert and take up residence at his condo, with the hope deep in his heart that one day he would be able to return to his beloved penthouse.

And yet, for some reason, he couldn't make his feet take him to the door. Instead, he turned around and walked through the ten-thousand-square-foot penthouse one last time. So he was a romantic, a nester. So what? As he walked around, he touched a memento from his parents, a childhood treasure, a favorite book on the table by his favorite chair, a bowl of peanut M&M'S, which he liked to snack on while he was reading.

Ten minutes later, he realized he was just postponing the inevitable. He looked at his watch. He'd spent ten minutes walking around, and now he felt worse than he had before. “I'll be back,” he whispered. “I don't know when, but I will be back.”

“And life goes on,” he mumbled to himself as he took his personal elevator to the sixth floor. “And life goes on.” Philonias bent down to pick up a small duffel that contained cell phones, passports, a wallet, and a box of flash drives.

Chapter 13

A
bner felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He hated that his hands were shaking as he struggled to pull it out. When he saw the sender's name, he grew light-headed. He struggled to take a deep, mighty breath as he squeezed his eyes shut. When he finally expelled all the air in his lungs, he opened his eyes and read the text. He bit down so hard on his lower lip, he felt the skin split.
No, this isn't happening. No!
But he knew it was happening, because he was seeing the text with his own eyes in real time. In the background, he could hear the others talking as they discussed the day's events. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Maggie gathering up her backpack and leaving the suite.

Abner felt Mary Alice's eyes on him. Then he felt her touch his arm, her way of questioning him about what was in the text. He handed her the phone and watched her eyes start to flood as she sagged deep into the chair she was sitting on. Somehow, she managed to whisper a tormented “What are we going to do, Abner?” Her hands were shaking so badly, she needed both of them to hold the cell phone so she could hand it back to Abner.

Abner licked at his bottom lip. White-hot, scorching anger ripped through his body as his eyes narrowed, then focused on Charles and the others, who were babbling away, albeit quietly. Then he looked at Mary Alice, who looked like a beaten dog as she whimpered into the arm she was holding against her face. He reached for her arm, tugged it away, and whispered, “Come with me. We're outta here.”

Jack sensed something was not right at the far end of the suite. He blinked at what he was seeing, then nudged Harry to follow his gaze.

“Abner! Wait up! Where are you going?” Jack demanded.

“All of a sudden you care about where I'm going! Don't give me any more of your goddamned bullshit, Jack. I'm leaving, and Mary Alice is going with me. We're done here! I am so damn done with you all, I want nothing more than to vomit. Now, get the hell out of my way before I knock you silly.”

“What the hell is going on?” Sparrow bellowed.

“Yeah, what the hell!” Abner parroted. He tossed his cell phone so hard across the room that Jack had to leap in the air to catch it. “That's what's going on!”

Jack read the text lightning fast, then tossed the cell to Charles. “Listen, Abner, I know you're upset! Will you listen to me, please!”

“See, Jack, that's the problem. I
did
listen to you. I did everything you asked, because I'm a good team player. PIP, even though you kidnapped her and brought her here, tried to help, too. We both told you RC would figure it out. You're holding the proof. And the guy is right. We, PIP and I, betrayed him. Me willingly, PIP not so much.

“I still don't understand why you are all so hell-bent on catching the guy. He just does what I do and Pip does. What makes him so different from us? I've worked and hacked for you guys for years.
Years
, Jack. He taught me and PIP everything we know. If he hadn't done that, I would never have been able to help you. Everything I've done for you and the sisters is thanks to RC. When it benefited you, it was okay what I did, and you didn't care how I had learned to do it. A wink, a nod, look the other way.

“Why couldn't you do that this time with RC? I can guarantee he did not keep any of the money, if he did indeed steal it. He would have given it all away. I don't know how I know this, but I know that RC is so filthy rich that he does not need to steal to feed his bank account. Any more than I ever needed to keep any of the money I turned over to you and the sisters, admittedly, for a nice fee in the beginning, before I no longer worked for them but became a member of the gang. You need to think about all that and own it.

“It makes no difference what he did or how long he has been doing it. And I would bet that the money that he has liberated was put to much better uses than if he had left it where it belonged. You're never going to catch him. Never! And if there's a way for me to help him, I will, and so will PIP. You've ruined our lives, you sons of bitches! I hope you're happy now. I will never again admit that I know any of you.”

Mary Alice felt like she was at a tennis match as she switched her gaze from Abner to the others, then back to Abner, as she tried to figure out what was going on. It sounded like Abner was now on her side. She felt herself being pulled toward the doorway of the suite, but at the last second, Abner turned and shouted, “Just because Bert is half a world away—by his choice, I might remind you, because Kathryn gave him his walking papers—and he has time on his hands, so he can dig into the financials because he has nothing better to do, then he can demand that we all come here and do his dirty work. Well, have at it, boys. I'm done and done. One last thing. I
do
know how to get in touch with Isabelle, who, if you're smart enough, will figure out she's in touch with the others. You think this is bad. Just wait!”

Abner slammed the door so hard, Jack could hear his teeth rattle.

“Like you said before, Jack, I sure as hell never saw that coming,” Sparrow barked.

“I did,” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Oh, dear, this is a problem,” Charles said.

Fergus agreed.

Cyrus pranced around the room, not knowing whom he should side with. He growled when no one paid any attention to him. Then he threw back his head and barked, the sound so loud and shrill, they all covered their ears. The shepherd was relentless with his barking.

Finally, Jack patted his leg and said, “It's okay. A minor disagreement. We'll work on it, Cyrus.”

The door opened to admit a disgruntled Ted, Dennis, and Espinosa. All three looked like dark thunderclouds.

“What's going on? I just saw Abner and his friend at the elevator, and he wouldn't even look at me. He looked . . . mad. I don't think I have ever seen Abner mad. Come on. Someone tell us what's going on,” Ted said.

Charles explained the situation. Ted digested the information.

“How could you guys let that happen?” he asked. “We need Abner. How many times has he ridden in to rescue us with his . . .
abilities
. You were wrong to put him in that spot. Dead wrong.”

Espinosa's head bobbed up and down in agreement.

“You're right, Ted,” Jack said wearily as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “It's done now, and we can't unring the bell. If any of you have any bright ideas on how to handle this, now would be a good time to voice them.”

The room went totally silent.

“That's what I thought,” Jack said wearily. “We need to fall back and regroup.”

“To what end?” Ted asked. “This whole gig is turning into a big bust. Kelly flat out sent us packing. Said he didn't care if Bert fired him or not. He was not doing one more stupid interview, and he sure as hell wasn't having his picture taken again. And he told me to shove this article you know where. That's why we're here so early. He's done, and he means it.”

“The guy was fed up. That's for sure. Can't say as how I blame him, either,” Espinosa said. “Where's Maggie?” he asked.

Fergus explained Maggie's situation.

“And you let her go! With no backup! I don't believe this,” Ted said, spinning on his heel, ready to leave the suite.

“Calm down, Ted. Did you ever try to talk Maggie out of anything? Ah, I see you have, and I know what the outcome was. Maggie has a mind of her own, and she is going to that . . . sleepover, female fest, whatever it is, and wild horses can't keep her here, so don't even try,” Fergus said.

“If you interfere, Ted, Maggie will make you pay big-time. You know that. Better to let her do her thing and trust she knows what she's doing,” Jack said. “Right now, we need to think about calling Bert to see how he wants to handle this latest development. I want to go on record here, right now, this very moment, as saying that if Abner says the guy is gone and won't ever be found, then I believe him. As much as I hate to admit it, we lost this round.”

“It ain't over till the fat lady sings, Jack!” Espinosa said fiercely.

“You're wrong. It's over, and we lost. You wanna take a vote?” Jack said.

“Well, if that's true, why aren't we packing up to go back home?” Ted demanded. “Who cares about Dixson Kelly and the truckload of women he has on the string? Who cares?” he thundered to the room.

As one, they responded, “Maggie cares!”

Ted's shoulders sagged. He walked over to the minibar and yanked out two Buds. He opened both and held one out to Espinosa, who gulped it like a man who had been stuck in the desert for a week.

“She might find a thread, a link, something that will help us,” Jack said. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I do not want to go home with my tail between my legs, knowing we failed. If there's even the remotest chance Maggie can come up with something, then we need to give her time to either prove it or disprove it.

“Here is something else for you all to think about. When the girls discover that we bombed out, we will never, as in never, never,
ever
, hear the end of it. And if Abner was telling the truth, that he can contact Isabelle . . . Do I need to say any more?”

“Since I wasn't here in the room for the fireworks, I have to ask. Was Abner just venting, or was he . . . you know, serious, and he is not coming back?” Ted asked.

Until now, Dennis had remained quiet, watching everything play out. “He's not coming back,” he said quietly. “You broke his spirit. Abner is a sensitive guy. You might not think so, but he is. He's what you call true blue. He's thinking you used him, played him. Maybe at some point, he'll forgive you, but not for a very long time.”

Harry stared at the young reporter through narrowed eyes. Then he put his arm around his shoulder. “You are absolutely right, Dennis. That's how I see it, too. Nice going, kid.”

Jack felt sick to his stomach, and his heart ached. He picked up the phone to call Bert, Abner's words fresh in his mind.

* * *

Mary Alice was breathless as Abner dragged her to the end of the hall. He held the door to the stairwell open for her to enter.

“Where are we going, Abner? What just happened back there? Why are we taking the stairs? Talk to me, Abner. Where are we going?” she asked a second time, her tone verging on hysterical. “I'm not taking another step until I know what's going on.”

“You were there. You heard everything. You're no dummy. What part of what just happened didn't you get?” Abner said, one foot on a step and one on the landing.

“The part about who the hell you all are. Do I need to remind you, you all kidnapped me? Normal people do not kidnap people and take them across state lines. Are you mercenaries? What's the endgame here? I don't even have any money or ID on me. How am I supposed to get home? Where are we going? I'm not going to ask you again, Abner. If you don't answer me, I'm going to start screaming. I mean it!”

“Okay, okay. But let's talk as we make our way to the sixth floor, where my truck is parked. I'll explain everything once we're away from here. I'm going to drive you back to Arizona, because you have no ID to get on a plane. Snowden's people would just grab you again.”

“What did RC do?”

“He helped himself to close to a billion dollars of the casino's money over a period of time. Bert figured it out. Bert, who years ago was the director of the FBI, runs security here at Babylon, and Babylon is owned by Countess Anna de Silva, one of the richest women in the world. Presently, owing to personal reasons, Bert is in Macau, China, overseeing the building of a new casino for the countess. He left Dixson Kelly, his right-hand man, in charge. Kelly doesn't appear to be in Bert's confidence. He's an ex-CIA spook. You getting all this?”

“I don't know if I am or not. This is like some bad novel or movie that you just shake your head over when you're done. I'm not getting it. I have nothing to do with you people. I'm no different from you.”

“You and I are the only two people who ever sat down with RC and talked to him. Yeah, it was years ago. I lied to them. I tried telling them I was just a kid and didn't pay attention to how he looked. Hell, I remember everything about him, right down to the pimple he had by his left eyebrow. The reason I remember it is that it either bothered him or he was embarrassed that a grown man like himself had a pimple. How's that for remembering trivia? You lied, too, PIP. You told them he had blue eyes and sandy hair. He has big brown eyes and black hair.”

“You still aren't telling me who these people are, Abner. I want to know. Avengers, vigilantes, crackpots? Who?” she gasped, her breathing ragged with the pell-mell run down the stairs.

“All of the above, okay? Look, we're at the sixth-floor parking garage. There are cameras everywhere, so keep your head down, not that it's going to do any good. But there is no sense in making it easy for them. I'm parked in the first row, next to some fancy cars. I drive a Range Rover, champagne colored, so just walk next to me and remember to keep your head down. We have to cross the whole length of the garage. Just so you know. Now, talk to me just like we are a couple and are having a conversation on the way to picking up our ride. You can do that, right?” Abner said, his gaze everywhere.

“Well, sure, Abner. I think I'll wash my hair tonight with some special avocado shampoo I've been dying to try. Supposed to make your hair thick and luxurious. That's after I send out eighteen hundred packets of my organic pumpkin seeds.”

Mary Alice raised her head and looked around defiantly. She spotted the champagne-colored Range Rover at the same moment she saw Philonias Needlemeyer standing next to a custom-made Bentley. “Oh, my God! Abner. Do you see what I see?” But Abner was already racing ahead of her, having seen the big man at the same time.